


Could've Had a Family

by el_gilliath



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful leaning towards Happy Ending, Isobel and Max keeping the worst secret from Michael, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_gilliath/pseuds/el_gilliath
Summary: Michael knows no one loves him. It’s just a fact of life, how no one wants him or people run away from him. He’s used to it by now, and it’s okay. He never expects them to stay.But it’s always weird seeing Mrs. Evans again. Because he knows that there was a time when she was at least somewhat fond of him, back when they were younger and he would spend a lot of time at the Evans household. He doesn’t know what changed, never really understood how she one day could go from fond to reminding him strictly that he was to call her Mrs. Evans when before he was allowed to call her Ann. He’ll admit that it’s been wracking his mind for years, but only to himself, never to others. He doesn’t want people to think he cares, because then they would feel bad.He hates that.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 25
Kudos: 213





	Could've Had a Family

**Author's Note:**

> This story started with a picture posted by @signoraviolettavalery about a secret Max and Isobel might be hiding from Michael. The working title is bad siblings. Should tell you something about there this is going.
> 
> It’s also a gift for @christchex @jumbled-nonsense and @beyondkailani who wanted hurt/comfort angst with happy ending. The ending is hopeful leaning towards happy but other than that I think I did pretty good. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, the mightiest thanks to Ariqa for helping me make sure my Norwegian grammar turns english.

Michael knows no one loves him. It’s just a fact of life, how no one wants him or people run away from him. He’s used to it by now, and it’s okay. He never expects them to stay.

But it’s always weird seeing Mrs. Evans again. Because he knows that there was a time when she was at least somewhat fond of him, back when they were younger and he would spend a lot of time at the Evans household. He doesn’t know what changed, never really understood how she one day could go from fond to reminding him strictly that he was to call her Mrs. Evans when before he was allowed to call her Ann. He’ll admit that it’s been wracking his mind for years, but only to himself, never to others. He doesn’t want people to think he cares, because then they would feel bad.

He hates that.

Right now it’s been a long year, a long decade, a long fucking life and he’s _tired_. Everything with Alex, everything with Maria, everything with Max and Isobel and Liz and Rosa. It’s just… enough.

But this… This is the last drop.

“I could’ve had a home?”

The room is abruptly silenced. All the yelling, all the fighting that’s been going on for the last hour, ever since the truth serum started affecting them, just stops and all of them turn towards Michael. Most of them watching him in surprise. But Max and Isobel… Max and Isobel are looking at him in guilt, so much guilt as if it’s dripping off them.

“Yes,” Isobel answers. She can’t stop herself, dosed by the serum as she is. And suddenly Michael regrets asking if they were keeping any secrets from him in jest, after he showed up to the lab and found them yelling. He really didn’t expect Max to say yes and start talking about his and Isobel’s parents. “Mom and dad were talking when we were around 14 about taking you in. But we were so afraid that if all of us were under the same roof they would find out about what we are. I went inside their heads and made them forget about it the next day.”

Michael closes his eyes. He can’t think about it. Can’t consider it. It will only break his heart. 

“That’s why they suddenly changed, why you were welcome one day and not the next. The only thing they remembered about you was the angry thirteen-year-old you were,” Max adds. He’s visibly trying not to speak, seemingly in pain over it. Michael can’t help but think _good_. 

“So you made sure I was left on the street. Let me believe no one wanted me.”

“Yes,” Isobel whispers through clenched teeth. And Michael knows he has to get out of there before he starts crying. Or worse, screaming. 

“Good to know.” His voice is rough, hurt. He doesn’t bother hiding it.

“Michael, you have to under-“

“Oh, I understand, don’t worry,” he understands exactly why they did it. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less or makes him any less angry. “Liz, you need me or can I go?”

“You can go,” Liz tells him. “I wouldn’t want to be here either after that.”

He nods at Liz and turns around walking out of the bunker while Isobel yells how sorry she is behind him. At least he knows she means it even if it doesn’t matter since he also knows that they don’t regret it. He can hear Kyle starting to lecture them on his behalf though he doesn’t stay to listen. He doesn’t care to.

He’s numb, numb beyond belief as he gets into his car, as he starts it, as he puts it in drive, as he drives off. He doesn’t know where he’s driving, doesn’t really care. He just knows he needs to get away from the bunker, from Isobel and Max.

Though he’s not terribly surprised when he stops the car and he’s outside Alex’s house. There’s so much shit and pain and confusing emotions between them, but there is one thing that he has never worried about; he will always feel appreciated by Alex. Even when they argue.

He still stays in the car, something inside him preventing him from getting out and actually going to Alex. He tells himself it’s because he wants to let Alex sleep. Never mind that it’s only ten pm, never mind that Alex is rarely in bed before midnight. It would feel too much like using him.

He doesn’t expect the car door to open not long after getting there, Alex jumping in on the passenger side. He’s in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, sans prosthetic and looking incredibly soft. As always, the sight of Alex relaxed fills him with a warm, sunny feeling. It wills him with joy, even a certain amount of pride. He’s finally seeing pieces of the old Alex again, the emo shit that pushed everyone’s boundaries, who was deathly afraid after the shed incident. He can’t help but like it.

“Not that I mind, Guerin, is there a reason you’re here at ten at night?” Alex asks. There’s a calm look on his face, almost like he’s making himself seem unthreatening. They’ve had enough late night fights that Michael understands why, though he still hates it.

“Sorry, I was just driving around and ended up here. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You never disturb me. We might not always be good at talking without fighting, but you’re always welcome,” Alex replies. He says it so easily, so completely that for a moment Michael forgets to breathe. “You okay though? You look… sad.”

“I’m fine,” Michael says, too quickly from the look Alex gives him. The worst part of their ten-year thing is how well Alex knows him. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t.

“Do you need anything?”

Michael opens his mouth to speak but in that moment his brain fractures and his carefully controlled chaos snaps. He can see it all, the memories flitting before his eyes like scenes of a movie.

The angry teenager he was, finally back in Roswell in his thirteenth year and back with his siblings. The anger of which Ann and Phil Evans saw firsthand many times. Until he broke down crying on their front step after escaping from his current foster home, beaten black and blue. Them taking him in that night, taking care of him, Ann’s kind words and Phil’s gentle touch as they cleaned his wounds.

He tried to be kind after that, tried to repay them for what he’d done. He didn’t always manage, but they knew what he went through. And in turn he was welcome to stay whenever he needed, an offer he often took advantage of.

He remembers thinking that that was why they turned from him, why he was suddenly no longer welcome. He learnt to not accept charity after that, believing that his greed, his using of the Evans’ offer was the reason they no longer wanted him there.

To find out that Isobel and Max are the reason, that he could have stayed with them and had a loving home alongside them… It’s too much after everything else.

“Michael, you’re crying.”

The soft words startle him, prompting him to slowly take a hand off of the steering wheel and touch his face. His fingers are wet when he looks at them. 

“You never call me Michael,” he says instead of commenting on his crying. 

“You’ve never cried in front of me.” And Alex is right, he never has. It’s all lust and fiery passion between them, anger and love and fierce emotions. Never just sadness. 

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re a miserable liar,” Alex says and Michael just looks at him in shock. The small teasing smile makes him burst into laughter, laughing harder than he has in a while. 

The laughter turns quickly to tears, even though he doesn’t want it to, even though he tries to stop them. But he can’t, the sadness and tears take hold now that he’s acknowledged them, running in fat rivulets down his face as he cries silently, his frame shaking. The pain he’s felt since Caulfield, since Max, since Isobel, since the first time he was beaten black and blue because he was a curious kid comes rushing out. He feels the pain like a black band tightening around his heart, tightening further and further as the tears just keep coming. In that moment the pain surpasses everything and he wonders if he can ever feel remotely okay again, a whine unwittingly forcing its way up his throat. 

A hand wraps around his upper arm and tugs him sideways. He resists, at first, not wanting to appear weak. He hates it, he’s not a charity case or someone that can easily be taken care of. That’s not who he is, not who he wants to be. But he gets tugged again, and he’s also tired, so fucking tired. He stops resisting and falls gratefully into Alex’s open arms. 

He’s touch starved in many ways, even more starved for true comfort. And Alex knows, as always, exactly what he needs as his hand tangles in his curls, lightly stroking, gentle and sure as Alex hugs him tight, his other hand stroking down his back. It’s a move done several times before, though usually under the cover of darkness, in a bed or on a stale mattress, wherever they could find time together the times they saw one another during the last ten years, scared boys and then young men taking comfort and love wherever they could get it, in the face of overwhelming grief.

It’s never been easy, and back then it never felt completely safe. But Alex still makes him feel loved. Even now, after everything.

He just lets himself cry, clings to Alex in a desperate hope that he will forget, that he can forget how much he’s been hurt over the years. How much he himself has hurt others as well. It’s the deepest burden he has, the knowledge of how much hurt he’s dolled out over the years to try and keep himself uninteresting, to try and keep people from wanting to know him. But here he is, clinging to Alex like he never wants him to disappear again, like he never wants him to move from his side. He knows there’s truth to it, but he still doesn’t want to think about it.

He’s too used to being walked away from. Tonight proved that. Especially since he’d never really considered that Max and Isobel had hidden something from him. It explains how easily they’d agreed to keeping the secrets of Rosa and Liz.

He zones out again, just sits against Alex, tears still rolling down his face and his nose hidden in Alex’s neck. It feels calm, like no one can bother him. He knows it won’t last but he still wants to feel it more often. He misses Alex, misses him like he thinks Alex misses his right leg, even if it’s not the same, even if it can’t be compared. Once upon a time Alex wanted him. He’s about the only one that ever has, at least for a longer period of time.

But now he knows that Ann and Phil Evans wanted him, too. Wanted him enough that they were going to offer him a place in their home. And his siblings destroyed it.

“Come on, let’s go inside. Sitting sideways like this is hell on my leg.”

“Shit Alex, I’m s-“

“Stop, that’s not what I meant. Just come inside, please?” Alex doesn’t give him time to answer, just opens the door and gets out, expertly using his crutches to go towards his house. Michael doesn’t feel like he deserves to come in, but he will go if Alex is offering. He still wants to be good. 

He takes a minute to calm down and dry his tears before he follows, walking in to find Alex in the kitchen fixing a cup of tea. An herbal tea with peppermint that Michael vaguely recalls telling Alex he liked once way back when. A tea he likes only because Ann Evans gave it to him several times when she would get up in the mornings and find Michael in the kitchen, after he was unable to sleep. 

“Why do you have that? You don’t drink tea?” He asks. 

“I don’t. But you do,” is the reply he gets. All that has been said and done, and Alex still continues to astound him. “Now go sit down on the couch and take the tea. I’ll be in in a second.”

He does as Alex says, walking into the living room with the cup of tea clenched in his hand. It burns his fingers, it feels good. He sits down sighing at the warm embrace Alex’s couch gives him. It’s a good couch, a deep gray with just enough give to make you feel comfortable yet not swallowed. He sips his tea slowly, cherishing it and the comfort it still brings. He continues sipping it even as Alex joins him, sitting as close as he can get without crowding him. Maybe they never talked, but they still know each other in all the ways that matters. 

“You wanna tell me what happened? You don't have to but you can if you want,” Alex asks as Michael nears the end of his tea. His tone is low, the timbre of it designed not to startle or make him feel insecure. It’s a tone of voice Alex uses when he needs someone to calm down. It’s a tone he’s heard several times throughtout the years. Both in anger, and in love. Michael sighs, drinks the last of the tea and places the cup on the coffee table, his eyes firmly set on the table. 

“Max and Isobel made Mr. and Mrs. Evans forget that they wanted to take me in because they were afraid of what would happen if the three of us were under the same roof.” He doesn’t mean to tell him, doesn’t even want to, really. But he still does. Alex would never use it against him, not the way other people would if they could use him. And Alex will never judge him for being sad. 

“What.”

Michael’s gaze turns to Alex’s face. He knows that tone of voice too, it’s the soldier tone, the tone of someone who’s 29 and on his way to becoming a major through hard work, careful insubordination and a will to fight his own battles. It’s not an Alex he’s met many times, he usually keeps the military side of him far away, knowing how Michael might react when pushed with it. But this is pure soldier, pure commander, pure disbelief and careful hints of anger. Michael might have issues with Airman Alex and what made him become who he is, but he does respect him. His issues are not Alex’s fault anyway, something he tries strongly to remind himself of.

“They, uh. They got exposed to a truth serum in the lab, Liz, Kyle, Iz, and Max. Liz called me in and asked if I could help, and as a joke I asked if Iz and Max were hiding any secrets from me.” Michael breathes deeply, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Alex’s face. “Apparently they were, as they started talking about when we were 14 and they overheard their parents talking about adopting me too. Isobel influenced them into forgetting everything, and I went from being Michael to being ‘that boy’ again.”

“Did they say why?” Alex asks.

“Does it really matter?” Michael bites back.

“Of course it matters, it always matters when you’ve been hurt by it.” Alex replies, the tone still there though it has softened a bit.

Michael sighs. “They were afraid of what would happen if the three of us were under the same roof. They were scared they would figure out what we were. I could've had a home, Alex, a family. Instead I have nothing, just anger and rage and hurt.”

It’s silent, for a minute. Not that Michael minds, it gives him time to think. He opens his eyes when he feels a soft press of lips on his forehead, looking at Alex in surprise when he leans back.

“That’s not true, you have Liz, Kyle, Maria and you have Iz and Max too even if it doesn’t feel like it right now,” Alex says, his hands leaving Michael’s hair and framing his face. “And I know you don’t believe it but. You have me, Michael. You’ve always had me.”

“But I hurt you so bad, Alex. Worse than I’ve hurt anyone else in my life.”

“Yeah, and I hurt you.” Alex sighs. “None of us were innocent in that, but that’s not the point I was trying to make.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is that you have a home, and a family. You know I never really had a family when I grew up either, so I forged my own, just like you did. And I know you can’t really see it right now, but you have everything you wanted and hoped for when you were a kid.” Alex smiles, it’s small and careful but still so very beautiful. “You have a family right here, Michael. Just like I do.”

“I don’t know if I want to forgive them for this, Alex,” he whispers in the silence left from Alex’s words. 

“Then don’t. You’re an amazing person, Michael, you’ve been through more hurt and pain than anyone should ever have to. But you still love because of it, you still try to see the best in everyone. If you don’t want to forgive them yet then you don’t have to.” He knows Alex means them, knows he’s not just saying it. It still feels… wrong, to not forgive. 

“But-“

“No buts. Take your time, you deserve it. Maybe make them grovel a bit, make them buy you shit.”

He opens his mouth to protest when he sees the teasing smile yet again on Alex’s lips. It makes him huff out a laugh. 

“You know I don’t accept charity.”

“Maybe you should,” Alex replies, the teasing smile still on his lips. It makes the darkness in Michael lighten, just a little, the way Alex always manages to.

“I love you.”

It’s not what he means to say, but the shock that turns into quiet delight on Alex’s face says it all.

“I love you too,” Alex replies and Michael can’t help but lean in, waiting to see if Alex moves away. When he doesn’t he places the sweetest kiss on his lips, he can’t help it.

“When all this has settled a bit and I’m not such an emotional wreck, maybe you and I should have that talk we should’ve had ages ago. If you still want to?” he asks.

Alex smiles in return. “I’d love to.”

It’s easy after that to gather Alex close, to kiss his forehead in return, to soak up all the love and return it tenfold. He might be a failure, might be a bad man, might not be anything worth keeping for some.

It’s enough to know that he’s still worth something, to Alex. He can deal with his siblings another day.


End file.
